35
FANG OPENED HIS eyes blearily. Above him was nothing but the clear night sky, dotted with millions of tiny glittering stars. It was beautiful.
It was quiet and calm, and yet for some reason he’d woken up.
He sat up, quickly scanning his surroundings for anything threatening, anything that might have made some sort of noise.
Nothing.
He still found it weird, nowadays, to wake up alone. Until this past year, waking up had always meant being flung into the noise and
chaos of the flock.
The flock. Fang had thought that it would get easier, being away from them, as time went on. He’d thought wrong. He’d thought that they’d be fine—even better off—without him, and that it would be easier for him to pursue whatever mission he had if he didn’t have to worry about them. Now he wasn’t sure.
And then there was the gang. Fang sighed and lay back down, making hardly a sound on the dew-dampened grass. Why had he ever thought that would work? Why had he tried? The gang had gotten Maya killed.
Fang swallowed and closed his eyes. Maya was dead. And though Ari kept demonstrating a freaky, jack-in-the-box ability to come back from the dead, Fang was pretty sure Maya was gone for good.
And the others—he’d really let them down. Fang frowned and pulled his jacket tighter around himself, turning onto his other side. He wasn’t used to letting people down. He was used to coming through for people. He’d thought being on his own meant that he could make all the decisions by himself, that he didn’t need to rely on Max to do all the thinking. The bad thing was that he had no one to discuss decisions with, no one to bounce ideas off of.
Admit it, you idiot—it’s more than that. You miss her, Fang thought.
He sighed and rolled onto his back, restless. He was exhausted, thinking about it all. But not exhausted enough to fall back to sleep.
She doesn’t need you, he reminded himself. She has the Winged Wonder by her side. Maybe being on your own is just too hard?
No, he couldn’t think tha—
Fang.
Fang jerked, startled, and peered into the dark trees and shrubs around him.
Fang, nobody’s there.
Oh, man. The voice—or rather Voice—wasn’t coming from around him.
It was coming from inside him.
Not again. He had to wonder—was this the same Voice Max got? Where did it come from? Why was it appearing in his brain now? Sure, all of them had heard the Voice at one time or another. But Fang definitely didn’t want this to become an everyday thing.
Okay, what is it? Fang thought. What do you want?
It’s time to go, Fang, the Voice replied. She does need you now, more than ever.
Who needs me? he asked, but he already knew the answer.
Go home to Max.
36
“IS SHE IN trouble? Are the others okay?” Fang demanded aloud, sitting up, alone in the darkness. What’s going on? he screamed inside his head.
But the Voice stayed silent, in that incredibly annoying way it had. It was gone. For how long, he didn’t know.
Go home to Max.
He had no idea if something was really wrong, but he couldn’t exactly ignore the Voice, either. When Max heard her Voice, she pretty much always listened to it. His Voice was saying that Max needed him more than ever.